


Whisky Business

by ProseApothecary



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 12:04:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15994844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProseApothecary/pseuds/ProseApothecary
Summary: David and Patrick (mostly Patrick) bake a cake.





	Whisky Business

“Ok,” says Patrick, “let’s start with something easy. Whisking the eggs.”

David picks up a spoon.

Patrick gives him a look that says “I’m pretty sure I’m dating an alien”.

“With a fork. Or a whisk, but I’m going to take a wild guess and assume you don’t have one.”

David manages it while keeping 90% of the egg in the bowl.

 

“Congratulations,” says Patrick, “now you have the skills to make scrambled eggs.”

“ _Can we_ make scrambled eggs?”

“Nope. You said you felt like cake, so we’re making cake.”

“I thought I felt like cake, before I got the behind-the-scenes look at how many steps are involved.”

“David,” says Patrick, putting his hand on David’s shoulder and looking up at him with earnest eyes, ‘I have faith in your ability to follow a five-step process. Now cream the butter and sugar.”

 “We need cream now?”

“No, that’s not- you just mix it.”

“Ok, so what I’m learning today, is that all cooking words just mean ‘mix’. Why do they not just say ‘mix’?”

“…You may have a point.”

“I do have a point. It’s a conspiracy, to keep any but the select few from ever mastering cooking.”

“Mm, you’re lucky you have someone from the inner circle to teach you then.”

“Right. Lucky.”

 

David burns out around the 30-second mark and Patrick takes over the mixing from there.

David backs into the dining room when it’s time to pour the flour and cocoa in, shielding his outfit. He’s mostly managed to keep it clean. Patrick, on the other hand, has flour on his shirt and in his rolled-up sleeves. Somehow he manages to look like a very rugged house-husband. It’s not a bad look for him.

Patrick has embraced the inevitable and has finished up the cake on his own. David helps with eating the leftover batter from the bowl.

“You know that can give you salmonella, right?”

“Really?” David stops eating.

Patrick licks a spoon of batter from the bowl.

“…What are you doing?”

“Living dangerously…?”

“Ok,” says David, taking his bowl back and spooning out some more batter.

 

“How long will it take to cook?”

“Who knows,” says Patrick, “could be hours. Could be days, even.”

“Seriously, how long will it take?”

“It should be about forty minutes.”

“Ok, but actually…?”

“Actually.”

“God. But now I want cake. Maybe we should buy a cake in the meantime.”

 ”If you wait the 40 minutes I’ll make a buttercream frosting as well.”

“Deal.”

 

45 minutes later, curled up on the couch with Patrick, sharing a very nice cake that he was at least 30% responsible for, David has to admit that he sees the appeal of cooking. Next time they were making something with a shorter waiting period though. Like cookies. Possibly giant anniversary-style ones.


End file.
